The Time Lady
by Iluva
Summary: The Doctor was not the only Gallifreyan to survive the Time War...


Mother is wearing one of her best dresses, complemented by a beautiful green crystal marked with the Gallifreyan symbol for "Mother". She is dressed for a very fancy party, and her mission is two-fold: to make contact with the host and arrange a meeting to negotiate the purchase of some expensive material necessary for TARDIS repair, and to sneak into his archives. His family, centuries back, helped design the looms for the Time Lords. Her research has reached a dead end, and perhaps reading over some early notes will help. There is no guarantee any loom notes have survived this long, or that any notes would be helpful.

It is early in the evening, and the Mother is still settling in at the party, taking note of the house layout, which doors are unlocked, and identifying the host. The party is not at full capacity yet, when a loud and boistrous figure enters the ballroom as he pockets his psychic paper.

The Mother catches a glimpse of him across the room and a red flag flies up in her mind. She makes her way closer to confirm his identity. Through a gap in the crowd she sees his face. The Doctor. One of his later regenerations. But it is him. The blood drains from her face and he notices her staring. His eyes drop to her necklace and she turns away suddenly and tries to hide in the sparse crowd.

She retreats to the powder room and flips the necklace over, hiding the Gallifreyan symbol. She wants to put it away, but that would be more suspicious than to deny the symbol. Her tasks are more desperate. She now needs to finish her missions without attracting too much attention from the Doctor.

The Mother exits the powder room and heads for the buffet, very calculated. She lingers, appearing to be very choosy. The Doctor saunters over and also takes a plate. Glancing at the Mother frequently, he makes his conspicuous way closer to her.

Watching her spear a small orange fruit, he asks, "I don't think I've ever tried one of those. Would you recommend it?"

The Mother doesn't look at him as she slides the fruit onto her plate. "As I know nothing of your tastes, sir, I can hardly recommend anything to you."

He snatches one in his fingers and pops it into his mouth. "Bit spicy. But very nice. For future reference, I like the little orange fruits, Miss…"

The Mother steels herself and faces him full so he can see her necklace clearly. His face cannot hide his disappointment when the necklace crystal is blank. But he looks back at her face and smiles his charming smile.

"Mrs. Clementine Makensie."

"That's a very… human name."

"Proto-human. Married into a human family and took their name. And you are?"

"The Doctor." The Mother suppresses a sigh. He was in a mood to attract attention.

"Sir Thedoctor, if you will excuse me." The Mother dips her head and moves to the side of the room to eat and keep an eye on the host.

A brush of fabric on her arm and she hears the Doctor say, "You seem very tense, Mrs. Mackensie. Exercise is good for loosening the muscles. Would you care to dance, or would your husband object?"

"My wife would have no objection." She watches his face give silent approval. "But I'm afraid I do not know any local dances."

"Who does at these things?" He takes her plate and sets it with his on a nearby shelf, scooting a figurine over, and then takes her arm and leads her to the center of the room.

Locals were gathered and performing a very specific dance for the song being played. But the Doctor takes the Mother's hand and sets the other on his shoulder and began something vaguely resembling a waltz. He moves the Mother awkwardly. She is uncomfortable forced to move backwards, and she is uncomfortable touching the Doctor.

He tries to be easy, encouraging, and charming, but if anything, she is stiffer after dancing for a few minutes than she was before. He notices that she cranes her neck around every few steps, and it doesn't take long for him to realize she's trying to watch the host.

He reluctantly gives up and dances her over to the host.

"Would you mind? That wine cuts right through me." The Doctor hands her off to a confused host.

"Sir Pandricorse? I'm flattered," the Mother is baffled for a moment but recovers. "I can't remember the last time I enjoyed an evening this much." She dips her head and waits for him to dip his in return.

"Thank you, Madame. I'm glad the party is satisfactory. If you'll excuse me." He bows and starts to move away.

"Actually, if you have a moment, I was hoping to talk to you."

"Maybe later. The party has just begun and I have many guests to greet."

"It would take just a moment. I understand that one of your trades is in rare minerals? I have a client who needs a few pools of tetralithium."

Pandricorse stops and gives the Mother his full attention. "A few pools? More than one?"

"At least two, but if three could be gathered, my client is willing to purchase. But a party is a poor place to discuss business."

"Yes, of course. Contact my steward and schedule an appointment. I believe I have some openings next week."

"Thank you, sir."

They bow to each other and Pandricorse moves away.

The Mother exhales in relief that she salvaged that situation so successfully, and almost immediately Pandricorse's place is taken by the Doctor.

"Three pools of tetralithium? What could your client possibly need that much tetralithium for?"

The Mother instantly tenses. "Most cultures consider eavesdropping rude."

"I suppose that makes me rude. Rude and curious. Tetralithium can be used to fuel weaponry. I'd like to be reassured that your client has other plans for them."

"It is none of my business what my client needs it for, and neither is it any of yours."

"I disagree with you, there, Mrs. Mackensie. I happen to make mass destruction of any kind my business, and if I can prevent it by persuading a middleman or woman or whatever gender preference you are, into cancelling a transaction, I will."

The Mother reluctantly looks at the Doctor. "I do not know why my client needs tetralithium, but from what I know of his business dealings, I doubt that weaponry is involved. Are you satisfied?"

The Doctor looks at her seriously. "Hardly." And then he brightens. "But it'll have to do. If you'll excuse me, I have a party to enjoy." He points at her stiff posture. "Try to do the same. Your business is finished."

The Mother exhales again as the Doctor meanders across the room. She returns to the entrance hall and pretends to adjust her hair in a reflector. A guest enters from outside and passes their outerwear to the servant. As the servant takes the garments into the coatroom, the Mother hurries down the corridor into the private rooms.

Logic and trial and error lead her to the door most likely to be the archivery. The Mother detaches the central ornament from her hair and extends a couple jacks and plugs them into the security panel. She presses a button, the panel goes dark, and she retracts the cords so that the ornament rests against the panel.

She enters the now unlocked door and closes it behind her. She cannot risk light escaping so she pulls darkvision lenses from her bodice and starts to acquaint herself with the organization of the room.

Within a few minutes she has located the oldest records and is scrolling through them, taking pictures of every page that might contain useful information. The door creaks and she hides behind a curtain, leaving the records on the table.

The lights are turned on and the Mother supresses a gasp as the light sears her eyes. She pulls off the lenses and puts them away. When the pain eases, she looks out and sees the Doctor looking over the records she left on the table.

She mentally debates trying to sneak back out.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the Doctor says, his back turned to her.

"Do what?" the Mother asks.

The Doctor turns and smiles. "I assumed you were sneaking up on me or trying to sneak out. Just seemed like a dramatic thing to say. Backfires occasionally. Very interesting reading material. Most of it's rubbish, but it looks like you've pulled the oldest books on artificial genetics in the room."

He flips through a few more pages. "Now that is interesting. I'd forgotten that Pandricorse was descended from Witherfute Rickstun. His research was critical for some very old very alien technology."

The Mother notes which volume he is browsing. She was going to take copies of the notes, but now she might end up stealing that volume.

"Was it? Is that information valuable, then? I had just started looking when you interrupted me, I didn't know what was in those books."

"I am too old to believe in coincidence." The Doctor approaches the Mother and lifts her necklace charm, revealing the design. "A necklace with the Gallifreyan word for "Mother", large quantities of tetralithium, and the initial research for looms? Someone is trying to resurrect the Time Lord race. And I want to know why. Is it some kind of cult?"

The Doctor's proximity was distracting the Mother, and after playing simple for so long, she was slow to come up with an alibi that would let her leave with that book quietly.

The Doctor notices her racing heartbeat in her throat, curiously twice as fast as most humanoids. The door creaks again, and in a flash of brilliance, the Mother throws herself at the Doctor, snogging him and dragging him to the table. He is too surprised to resist, and before he knows it, it looks like he's pinned her to the table in a fit of passion. Only one of the Mother's arms holds his face fast to hers, while the other slips the volume into a hidden pocket in her skirt.

"If you'll pardon me, guests aren't allowed in this section of the house," a young, embarrassed servant said, standing in the doorway.

"Oh dear! We've been discovered," the Mother pushes the stunned Doctor away and straightens her dress and touches her hair.

"I won't report you two if you leave now and restore the security. We were supposed to keep a better eye on you guests and I'll get in trouble if he finds out you got past us."

"Of course. I'll set everything right once the door is shut."

The Doctor walks automatically out of the archivery and the servant shuts off the lights and shuts the door. The Mother unplugs the ornament and the panel resumes its duty.

"It'll just look like a minor power glitch on the history. If you could gather my coat? I think I've had enough excitement for today."

They follow the servant back to the entrance hall and while her coat is fetched, the Doctor leans in to say quietly, "Don't think we're done discussing the issue."

"Of course not. I'm just grateful not to be arrested right now. But your issue seems to be with my client, not with me. I don't know about Time Lords or cults. There's a restaurant two streets north, I'll have him meet you there at midday in two days. Is that acceptable?"

The servant reappears and helps her into her coat.

"That is acceptable. Good day, Mrs. Mackensie."

"Good day, Sir Thedoctor."

The Mother tries to be nonchalant and lose the Doctor, while the Doctor tries to nonchalantly follow. Frustrated, she turns into a hotel and checks in. From her window, she watches the Doctor lean into a niche and watch the entrance.

The Mother decides to take advantage of the quiet moment and study the book she stole. First she removes the more expensive layers of her outfit, then she pulls the blanket from the bed and curls up in a chair to read.

The information is incomplete and rudimentary. Genetic engineering has come a long way in the past centuries, and Rickstun was only one person working on the project. But she is interested in his theory. In the bits of information he didn't mean to write about, the details that were the unspoken basis of his theories.

She falls asleep reading and awakens with a gentle pressure on her wrist. The Doctor is standing over her in her hotel room, staring at her wrist in his hand.

"You have four heartbeats," he said. "You're a Time Lord."

"You presume I couldn't be a Gallifreyan. Most fail the test to be a Time Lord. Or perhaps I'm some other species with two hearts."

"But you're not. You're a Time Lord." He lets go of her wrist. "I had stopped hoping anyone else survived. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you transmit a signal from your TARDIS? I assume you have one, do you? I could have found you. It's been over a hundred years for me, I could have found you if you had tried. Why…"

"Because I hate you," the Mother interrupts, her voice full of venom.

The Doctor is stunned. "What?"

"I have been hiding from the Destroyer of Gallifrey. I could barely keep my mind on my business yesterday when I found out you were at that party. When you crashed that party with your usual arrogance. I hated having to touch you. It was all I could do to keep my composure and not get thrown out."

"You misunderstood. I didn't… I did destroy Gallifrey, but you don't know what they were going to do. I thought I destroyed the Daleks as well, but a few fell through time and they've reconstructed themselves a few times. But I had no choice."

"I understand. I understand probably better than you do. You arrogant piece of Lixan filth. You didn't give them the chance. Rassilon didn't speak for all of us. The Council can declare whatever it wants, but did you honestly think the entire planet was going to put up with their schemes for immortality? At the cost of the universe? That you were the only being who could stop them?

"I can't even imagine the arrogance needed to come to a conclusion like that. You destroyed Gallifrey because you believed the celebrity everyone put on you. The famous Doctor. The brilliant Doctor who can salvage victory from the jaws of defeat. Who has faced death time and again and walked away unscathed. The brilliant Doctor couldn't believe that there was any other way to stop the Council than to use the Moment on them?" The Mother laughs. "And you couldn't even take the Daleks with them.

"All they needed was a little more time. There was resistance. Once the Council announced their plans, most Houses rallied against them. They were about to storm the Council and arrest them. They suspected a paranoid hallucinagen had infected them. All they needed was a little more time. But you couldn't give them that."

"How can you know all this? How did you escape?"

"I was out on research. I received the call to return, but my research was time sensitive. My House kept me informed. Up to the Moment. Imagine my horror when I tried to return home. It took years of research to discover what you'd done. And I've hated you ever since."

"I didn't know about the rebellion. How could I? I thought I was sacrificing Gallifrey to save the universe. It wasn't an easy decision for me. I destroyed my home. My family. My House. I tried to think of any other way to stop them, but not in time. They were about to begin the ritual. I had no choice."

"I pitied you. I pitied your arrogance and your choice and your ignorance. But then I learned more about your exploits. I learned about Satellite 5. When you were placed in an identical situation and you spared Earth. You would have watched the Daleks destroy all your precious humans and then spread across the universe rather than sacrifice that planet." Angry tears sprang to her eyes. "What makes you love humans more than your own species? What makes you come up with brilliant victories when human lives are at stake but you gave up on the Time Lords? Why couldn't you destroy Earth when you so easily destroyed Gallifrey?"

"It wasn't easy! I keep telling you that! And I couldn't destroy Earth because I couldn't bear the guilt a second time. I had the weight of every Gallifreyan life on my conscience every moment since then, waking or sleeping. I couldn't stand to add another planet to my guilt. Clementine, I need you to understand. I need you to forgive me."

"I condemn you. I condemn you to a life of loneliness. I condemn you to companions either short lived or of inferior intelligence. I condemn you to wander all of time and space with no place to call home. And so have you condemned me." The Mother looks away from him.

The Doctor sinks to his knees and takes her hands. "It doesn't have to be like that. I know you hate me, but maybe in time you'll get to know me. I have tried to do nothing but good. I have been trying to atone for what I've done by saving lives. All lives, when possible. I breathe, hoping to find peace for my soul. I can't find it without you. I need a Time Lord to forgive me. I knew that when I found the Master. I would have travelled with him until my final death if it meant he one day forgave me. And we had hated each other for hundreds of years. But I would have.

"Give me a chance to earn your forgiveness. We don't have to live alone. We both know what it's like to look into eyes that are so young and naïve, it's hard to imagine they know anything about life. To have to explain simple concepts so that species slightly more evolved than domestic pets can understand us. If you miss Gallifrey half as much as I do, you won't be able to walk away from an equal and chose to continue that life."

"But I hate you so much," the Mother whispers.

"I know hate. I once had a companion, a human, who helped me show mercy to a Dalek. And I hate them more than I knew I could hate. But if that's possible, then maybe, in time, it would be possible for you to forgive me."

"The only thing that keeps me from firing my pistol at you is my fear of your brilliant mind. Anyone who so much as threatens your life tends to be destroyed. If I ever become suicidal, expect a knife in your back."

The Doctor chuckles at her. When she looks up in surprise and disgust, he defends his response, "Oh, come on, that was funny. Flattering and not exactly accurate, but funny. You may hate me, but I love you with both my hearts. Just for living. Just as I loved the Master. I tried everything to spare him, even after all his crimes. And I'll accept the occasional knife in the back if it means you'll come with me."

"Come with you? And abandon my research?"

"Your research? Are you truly trying to recreate Time Lords? To build a loom?"

"I'm not telling you anything about my research. You seem to have vaccilating ethics and a tendency to impose your will on others. I can't afford for you to disagree with me."

"I… won't argue with you. I want to, but I won't. Can you… postpone your research for a while and travel with me?"

"I need time to consider."

"Do you promise not to run off?"

"No, I do not."

"I know you can't leave until your business with Pandricorse is complete, so I'll have to be content. When do you not promise to decide?"

"Give me two days."

"You like two days."

"It's usually enough time to do anything."

"Two days it is, then."


End file.
